Rachel and Santana Universe
by insaneantics21
Summary: Stories set in a universe centered around Rachel and Santana.
1. Moods

**Author's Note about all stories: **These will not be in chronological order. There will be context clues referencing other stories to tell what happened when but I'm not setting dates or anything. Just use your imagination =)

* * *

**Installment Summary:** Santana sees a new side of Rachel.  
**Author's Note: **This is based on a collection of true stories that I've mashed into one =D

* * *

Santana was sure that after five years of dating Rachel that she knew Rachel's moods quite well. When Rachel was in any kind of positive mood, she sang. Constantly. Santana had learned to ignore it or if she was in a particularly happy mood she would sing along with her. If Rachel was in any kind of bad mood, she grumbled a lot. Nothing coherent, just grumbling under her breath. It wasn't that Santana liked it when her girlfriend was in a bad mood but damn, Rachel really loved comfort sex. Really loved it. And Santana really loved providing it.

The Latina had seen a wide array of Rachel's moods. She was ecstatic when she got a walk-on role in an off Broadway production after months of auditioning and busting her ass working two jobs in New York while Santana went to classes and held down her own campus job. She'd comforted Rachel when the budding star was upset every time she didn't get a role but it usually didn't last long (thanks in part to the amazing comfort sex). She'd seen her tired after working for almost twenty-four hours solid. Santana was pretty sure she'd seen it all. However, she was wrong.

Being the wonderful girlfriend Santana knew she was, she was up early Sunday morning to cook breakfast for her and Rachel. Sunday was the one day they agreed that both of them would take off of work, classes, shows, everything. It was their time. Santana would get up early and cook breakfast and bring it to Rachel in bed and they would spend all day cuddling (usually after sex) and watching movies. They'd order sandwiches for lunch and Chinese for dinner and it would be an absolutely perfect day.

Santana stirred up the scrambled eggs and checked on the turkey bacon and was humming quietly to herself when she heard the floor creak behind her. She smiled and turned around to be met with a glare that could only be described as one capable of liquefying her kidneys if Rachel had a clear view of them.

"You," Rachel growled, "are a disgusting, filthy little _whore_!"

Santana's jaw dropped. There wasn't really a response to that kind of thing.

"I want you out of my apartment, now."

"Rachel…Sweetie…"

"Don't you 'sweetie' me, you lying slut!"

The eggs had begun to burn but Santana didn't really notice.

"Get out!" Rachel shrieked.

"Why?"

"You cheated on me!" Rachel was half-yelling, half-growling and Santana was actually a little concerned for what that could do to the singer's voice but that wasn't the issue at the moment.

"What?"

Santana dropped the spatula and turned around to shut off the stove because she had finally noticed the burning smell and didn't want to set off the fire alarm. Again.

"You cheated on me!" Rachel repeated. "Who is she, Santana? Some whore you met at school?"

"I didn't cheat on you!"

Santana was thoroughly confused at this point. Even if she'd ever wanted to cheat on Rachel, she didn't have the time or the energy. She _barely_ had the energy to have sex with her girlfriend, let alone someone else. Really, if she were ever to be in someone else's bed it would be to take a nap.

"You did! You cheated on me!"

"Rachel, I don't know who you heard this from but I swear to you it isn't true."

"Yes it is! I didn't have to hear it from anyone, I know you did!"

"How could you quite possibly just kn-…Rachel?"

The shorter brunette had turned and was heading back toward the bedroom. Santana followed, attempting to get Rachel's attention but all she did was climb in bed and start snoring softly. Santana changed her mind. _Now_, she was thoroughly confused.

Santana retreated to the living room and sat on the couch with her fingers threaded through her hair trying to process exactly what had just happened. Rachel had been absolutely furious…and then she went back to bed. There was no logical explanation. The Latina focused hard on the floor and was unaware of anything happening around her until Rachel dropped to the couch next to her and started kissing her neck. Teeth scraped against her skin and Santana jerked a little.

"Good morning," the short brunette purred. "When did you get up?"

Santana blinked. "Huh?"

Rachel giggled a little and nibbled at the girl's earlobe. "I asked when you got up this morning, baby."

Santana's jaw dropped a little. "Baby?" The Latina stood and hovered over her girlfriend and shook her head in absolute disbelief. "Less than half an hour ago you were in here, absolutely furious, accusing me of cheating on you! What the hell, Rachel!"

"Wh-what?"

"You stood there," Santana pointed to the spot Rachel had occupied during her rant, "and you accused me of cheating on you! You said no one had to tell you and you just knew…then you turned and went back to bed! Now you're acting like nothing happened!"

Rachel's gaze dropped to the floor. "Oh damn…" she mumbled under her breath.

"Damn? Damn, what? What?"

"I'm prone to sleepwalking. Or, I was. I thought I outgrew it but apparently I've had a slight…relapse."

"Sleepwalking?"

Rachel sighed and patted the vacated couch space next to her. Santana sat down and her girlfriend reached out and took her hand.

"It began when I was three, I would sleepwalk everywhere. My dads had to put alarms and locks on all windows of the house as well as add supplemental locks out of my reach on the doors because I had a tendency to wander into the back yard…or to the neighbor's yard, or on one occasion, a park nearby my house. They attempted several medications to stop it but nothing was successful. As I got older the incidents decreased and were limited to simply walking around the house talking as if I were awake and then retreating to my room and waking a short time thereafter. The last incident was when I was seventeen…well, that I'm aware of."

"Don't you think you should've shared that with me at some point?"

"I didn't find it necessary. I hadn't had a problem since we began dating."

Santana nodded and made a mental note to have a new lock installed on the top of their apartment door since Rachel probably couldn't reach that high still.

"So…any idea why you did it now?"

Rachel shrugged. "I can't think of any disruption in my routine that could've caused it. Perhaps it was simply a fluke."

Santana nodded. "A fluke…right."

"I'm sorry, Santana. I should've informed you of this, I really should have."

"You've never like…tried to kill anyone have you?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

Santana nodded again and Rachel pressed another kiss to the Latina's neck.

"What do you say," Rachel whispered against tanned skin, "we skip breakfast this morning?"

"The eggs are burnt anyway," Santana mumbled. She pulled Rachel up to capture her lips in a kiss then pulled her to the bedroom.

Santana was right, Rachel couldn't reach the new lock on the door. Nor could she reach the knives when Santana put them up on top of the refrigerator every night before the pair went to bed which created problems when Rachel wanted to cook dinner if Santana forgot to take the knives down the next morning. It made Rachel a little angry and Santana hated her angry moods…until one of the two initiated angry sex and then…well then, Rachel's mood was alright.


	2. Surprises

**Installment Summary:** Rachel lands her first TV role.

* * *

New York City had been good to Santana and Rachel, the taller half of the pair always said. Rachel argued with her because of the time she got appendicitis and had to miss the chance to meet her idol but Santana was always there to remind her that she did eventually get to meet Barbra at the Tony Awards. Where Rachel was nominated. The shorter brunette would just scoff and say she would've rather had a more intimate setting.

Rachel was on Broadway. Santana was starting her third year residency at St. Luke's in their emergency department. In other words, life was awesome.

When Rachel literally bounced into the apartment one night and on top of her girlfriend, Santana didn't complain even though she'd just come off of a fifteen hour shift at the hospital. Rachel was frisky and they hadn't had time in a while and the shorter brunette seemed pretty enthusiastic so the Latina figured she had a really good show that night. She'd have to make a double run to Starbucks the next day but she didn't care.

A few months later Rachel handed the Latina a piece of paper with a date written on it.

"I need you to take that day off," Rachel said with a grin. "Or at least make sure you don't get a night shift. I need you home from nine thirty until eleven fifteen, at least."

Santana shrugged. "I'll see what I can do, babe."

She had to trade a few shifts and promise a few favors but she managed to get the day shift and was off work in plenty of time to be home when Rachel asked her to. Rachel was buzzing around the apartment all day long cooking and cleaning. She cleaned the television screen three times and checked the cable box every hour on the hour. Santana even overheard a phone conversation the star was having with the cable company, ensuring that the programming would remain the same that night and there would be no interruptions.

At nine fifty, Rachel dragged Santana to the couch in the living room with the spread of finger foods she had put out on the coffee table. She took the Latina's phone away and shut it off as well as her own. She also put a "do not disturb" sign on their apartment door. Santana was confused, to say the least. But she'd learned not to ask questions anymore.

"This is a momentous occasion, Santana," Rachel said as she turned the TV on and made sure it was on CBS. "This is the day that my face gets viewed by no less than twelve million people."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"Just watch!" Rachel pointed excitedly to the TV where the opening scene for _CSI: New York_ was playing.

About fifteen minutes and two dead women into the episode, just after the first commercial break, the shorter brunette gasped and pointed to the screen.

"Don't blink!"

Santana kept her eyes glued to the screen.

_"What do we have?" Mac Taylor inquired to the on-scene officer._

_The two men walked from the street down an alley where there were more officers and yellow caution tape hung up and Detective Don Flack was kneeling next to the body._

_"Victim is a female, looks to be about mid twenties, she was found by waste management about an hour ago. No ID," the officer said._

_Mac knelt down next to the body and turned the woman's chin._

Santana gasped and clutched onto Rachel's shoulder.

"Th-that's you!" the Latina gasped. "What the…Rachel!"

"Shhhh! Watch!" the brunette bounced.

_Mac rubbed his forehead as he looked down at the body._

_"Strangulation, judging by the bruises on the neck," Don said. "And there's this," he held pointed to the left wrist where a circle brand was burned into the skin._

_"Third one this week," Mac sighed._

_The flashback scene came on, it was the unidentified woman struggling against a man in the dark alley. The man had his hands around her neck and she was pressed against the alley wall, flailing and struggling. It cut to her body on the ground and the man pressing a red hot brand to her left wrist._

Santana started hyperventilating.

"Santana?"

"Wh-what the hell, Rachel! Why didn't you w-warn me?"

The Latina jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen where she retched in the sink. A small hand was on her back a moment later.

"I…wanted to surprise you. I shot it a few months ago when they were on location."

Santana splashed cold water on her face and let out a quiet sob as she hung her head. "I'm s-sorry…it's just…that's like…really hard to watch."

"I didn't know it would have that strong of an effect. It's not real, Santana."

"I know it's not real!" The Latina snapped her head up and looked into Rachel's big brown eyes. "But…but you were really good and…the thought that it _could_ happen…God, just…don't do that to me again, okay?"

Rachel nodded and wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and pulled her in. "I'm so sorry baby," the diva cooed to her distraught girlfriend. "Those were the only scenes, okay? I'm fine, everything is fine."

Santana hugged around Rachel's shoulders and held on tight and let the tears slip down onto the shorter girl's shirt.

"Te amo," Santana whispered softly.

"I love you, too."

Santana bought Rachel a can of mace and a taser gun and for weeks she didn't let the brunette go walking anywhere without her. New York City had been good to them. It turned Santana a little softer but fiercely protective and Rachel just smiled and let her be protective because it meant Santana held her a little tighter and kissed her a little deeper and she wasn't going to argue with that.


	3. Whipped

**Installment Summary:** Santana gets caught...doing something.

* * *

Santana stood like a deer in headlights as her girlfriend glared holes through the side of her head and clenched her fists at her side, absolutely seething.

It was a little insane, yeah, that they'd moved from Lima to New York together and immediately got an apartment. They had only been dating for seven months but they figured it would be cheaper than living on their own and they made sure to get a comfortable couch because, duh, it was Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez and fights were going to go down. The first day they had argued over where to put the toothbrush holder. Rachel preferred it on the right hand side of the sink; Santana wanted it on the left. They tried two separate holders but the counter space was already limited and something always got knocked off (inevitably into the toilet) so, after several nights of Santana sleeping on the couch, they had the building super install a wall-mounted toothbrush holder right over the sink faucet.

A month had gone by since then and things were working out alright. The apartment was tiny and they had trouble not running into each other but overall, they made it work. This, though? Santana was sure that Rachel was about to go absolutely insane judging by the look in her eyes.

"Santana, might I inquire as to what it is you're doing right now?"

"Uh…"

"That is the single most vile and disgusting thing I think I've ever witnessed from you."

"It's not a big deal, Rach."

Rachel squeaked. "Not a big deal? Santana! That is positively nauseating!"

"It's not like you use it or anything."

"It doesn't matter whether or not I use it! It's disgusting! Does your mother know you do this?"

"I never got to do it at home, that's why I do it now."

The shorter brunette's jaw dropped and Santana followed her as she stormed into their bedroom and began rummaging around in her purse.

"You're seriously calling my mom?"

"She needs to know that her daughter is a delinquent and that she should discourage this sort of behavior in your younger brothers."

"Rach, seriously, please don't call her."

There were two people in Santana's life that terrified her. One of them was holding a phone with her thumb hovering over the call button and the other was probably yelling at her younger brothers to stop trying to kill each other. She'd never admit to being terrified of Rachel, of course, because that would mean she was whipped. And Santana Lopez would _never_ admit that.

"I don't know what else to do, Santana. I can handle you leaving dirty shirts on the floor or not properly lining your shoes up in their appropriate places in the closet but this? This is abhorrent."

"You don't use it!"

"What if we have guests, Santana? What if my fathers or your parents come for a visit? I refuse to have to explain to them-"

"Okay, okay! I get it! I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

Rachel nodded. "Apology will be accepted when the situation is rectified."

"I'll go to the store and get a new one and write my name on the old one so no one grabs it, okay? Just…give me like two minutes to put something decent on."

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and gave a satisfied smile. Santana immediately grabbed a t-shirt and jeans out of the closet and dressed quickly, slipping on flip-flops on the way out. She was totally not whipped. Not at all. Rachel was right, it was gross, and she'd just have to replace it. No big deal. She kissed her girlfriend goodbye before rushing out of the apartment and practically running three blocks to the nearest convenience store.

Once the door shut behind the Latina, Rachel gave a satisfied smirk. Santana? Totally wrapped around her little finger. Completely and utterly whipped. She was sincere in telling Santana that her actions were completely disgusting because, ew, what civilized person does that? But having the girl rush out of the apartment to immediately fix the situation? Completely worth it.

Fifteen minutes later Santana was back, out of breath from running to the convenience store and then running harder to out-run a stray dog on the way back, precious cargo tucked safely in her arms. She greeted Rachel by coming up from behind the couch and handing over a bouquet of colorful daisies (Rachel's favorite) and the latest issue of Cosmo as her "I'm sorry" presents. She was followed to the kitchen by her girlfriend and she could feel Rachel's eyes on her as she took out a Sharpie from one of the kitchen drawers and then the carton of milk from the refrigerator. She wrote, in thick letters, "SANTANA" and placed the carton back in the refrigerator. It was followed by a brand new carton of (very, very overpriced) milk.

"Thank you," Rachel said with a smile.

"The things I do for love…" Santana mumbled as she pulled Rachel back to the living room.

"What have we learned today?"

"Don't drink from the milk carton when you're home."

Rachel shrieked and playfully smacked Santana's arm. The Latina just smiled and opened her arms to her girlfriend to pull her down to the couch where they snuggled up to watch whatever was on TV. The whole cohabitating thing? It was going to be totally awesome.


	4. Origins

**Installment Summary:** When Brittany moves away and falls out of love it's up to Rachel to pick up the pieces of Santana's heart. (The beginning of Santana/Rachel as we know it in the [still lacking an official title] Pezberry 'Verse.)  
**Author's Note #1:** Let's just pretend that Season 2 hasn't happened.

* * *

When Santana shut her locker on the first day of her junior year she was simultaneously expecting the presence behind it yet startled at the sudden appearance of her glee club captain. Rachel was standing behind the door with a sympathetic look on her face that told Santana she was about to hear what she'd heard four million times already from everyone that knew what happened that summer.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel said with a weak smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Treasure Trail. What do you want?"

"Well I just wanted to ensure that you were doing well after the events of the summer. Quinn informed me that Brittany's family's relocation back to the Netherlands hasn't been easy for you. I just wanted to extend the offer that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"I'm fine, Man Hands. It's all fine. After high school she's coming back here and we're going to college. Now go away, you're annoying me or something. Shouldn't you be hanging off of Finnocence?"

"I'm glad to hear that. And Finn and I have reached the conclusion that we work together much better when maintaining nothing more than a friendship." Rachel's smile brightened and Santana thought she might actually throw up from all of the optimism radiating off of the annoying girl.

Rachel literally skipped off leaving Santana to rest her forehead on her locker door and scowl. There were tears threatening to spill over, as there always were nowadays, but she blinked them back and put on her best bitchface before heading to class.

XXXXXXXXXX

Three weeks later Santana shut her locker again to find Rachel standing behind it, this time with furrowed eyebrows and a look more of concern than sympathy.

"What do you want, Berry?"

"I saw Brittany's parents this weekend, Santana. I saw them and her younger sister sitting down at a Breadstix having dinner."

Santana looked at the floor. "Who else did you tell?" she mumbled.

"No one. Santana, where is Brittany?"

"Get away from me."

Santana turned away; Rachel didn't stop her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Another week went by; Rachel looked longingly at Santana from across the room and when they would pass each other in the hallway. The third time Santana shut her locker and Rachel was behind it, she didn't flinch or even growl.

"Where is Brittany?"

"Why would I tell you, RuPaul?" Santana's voice didn't even have fight in it.

"Santana, what's going on?"

Santana couldn't believe what she was about to do. But she needed to tell _someone_ and Rachel was the only one that seemed interested. Santana gripped the girl's bicep and Rachel flinched; Santana pretended not to care and she dragged the short girl through the hallways and into an empty classroom.

She didn't know where to begin. She hopped up on one of the tables and let her feet dangle as she looked down at them. A few seconds later Rachel was at her side sitting next to her.

"Brit's in the Netherlands," Santana mumbled. "And it's all my fault."

There was silence from Rachel as she waited.

"I thought maybe they'd be okay with us, her parents. They seemed cool…she begged me not to tell them. She begged me not to but I talked her into it…told her I would protect her. She was gone a week later. Shipped her to live with her grandparents and it's my fault."

"Oh Santana…"

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this, Berry. Not even Quinn."

"Quinn and I aren't that cl…" Rachel stopped when Santana sniffled and wiped away a few tears. "I won't tell anyone. She'll still be coming back for college, won't she?"

Santana shrugged. She honestly didn't know.

Santana didn't even jump when Rachel put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure everything will be just fine," Rachel whispered.

XXXXXXXXXX

Santana wasn't at her locker the next time Rachel appeared out of nowhere. It was the middle of December. She was sitting on a park bench holding the first letter she'd gotten from Brittany in four months and trying really hard to resist the urge to grab a heavy rock and run into the park lake to drown herself. Someone jogged by and Santana didn't notice until they dropped to the bench next to her.

"Santana?"

Santana looked up at Rachel who was pulling her earbuds out and shutting off her iPod. "Go away."

"Is everything okay?"

Santana shook her head and did something she never thought she'd do. She broke down in front of Rachel Berry and sobbed.

"She…she's not coming back…I-I don't…I don't know what to do."

"What happened?"

Santana cried harder.

"Santana, please…" Rachel wrapped an arm around her shoulders and the Latina buried her head into Rachel's neck.

"She's not coming back. She wrote me and told me she wasn't coming back." Santana paused and took a deep shuddering breath before continuing. "She's seeing someone else and she wants to stay there."

Rachel froze. "What?"

"Her grandparents introduced her to some guy and now she's telling me she's in love with him and she wants to stay there."

"Is there a possibility of an arranged marriage being formulated? The entire situation sounds rather suspicious, if you ask me."

"I don't know," Santana sniffled. "Probably. Her parents' was."

"That's preposterous; she's only seventeen!"

"I know. So were her parents."

"If that's the case then you have to stop her!"

"How, Smurfette?" Santana jerked away and growled. "All I have is an address! I tracked down a phone number when she first left and I tried it but she never answered and she sent me a letter telling me to stop trying because she's not allowed to answer the fucking phone. I don't have the money to fly over there! And to top it all off, she _wants_ this."

"How could she quite possibly want this?"

"She'll do whatever they tell her to. Look." Santana thrust the letter that was in her lap to Rachel. She recited the words in her head. She'd memorized them.

_S,_

_This is my last letter. I'm sorry I didn't write before but I didn't know how to tell you…I met a guy and I think I'm in love with him. His name is Sven…he's 22. Everyone really likes him and I really like him. My grandparents know his dad or something. They took me to his restaurant and I had dinner with him and he's really nice. So I guess this is goodbye. Be happy :)_

_B_

"Santana, this is…this is insane. Honestly insane."

"Tell me about it."

Rachel fidgeted with her phone for a few minutes and the pair sat in silence save for the sound of kids playing in the snow nearby and the occasional car driving up the street. The snow started to fall again and Santana brushed a few snowflakes from her eyelashes as Rachel tucked her phone safely into her pocket.

Santana watched out of the corner of her eye as Rachel picked at her gloves and slowly turned her head to speak. "According to the latest weather report it is currently twenty-eight degrees and the forecast is calling for the snow to only get worse. I'm not sure you should be sitting in the cold like this for much longer so I'm extending an invitation to come to my house for hot chocolate."

"I'd kind of rather stay out here and freeze."

"I'm offended."

"It's not you, Berry. I just…I'd really like to die right now."

"Sue Sylvester wouldn't be too happy about that."

"Sue Sylvester can shove it up her ass. I'm quitting the Cheerios anyway."

"Just…one cup and I promise I'll bring you back here and you can freeze all you like."

Santana sighed and found herself reluctantly nodding; Rachel pulled her up off the bench and to her car.

The Berry house was small and warm and very inviting. Santana dropped to the couch and Rachel wrapped her in a thick quilt before retreating to the kitchen. She appeared again with two steaming mugs, tea for herself and hot chocolate for Santana, along with a second blanket.

"Would you like to watch a movie? We have a very extensive catalog."

Santana shook her head and reached for her hot chocolate. She let the steaming liquid burn her chapped lips and sear her tongue and she didn't even care. It's not like she would be using them anytime soon and she welcomed the pain.

"Will you be sending her a letter back?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Tell her you love her. Tell her you want her to reconsider the marriage and you still want to be with her."

"She won't do it."

"You never know unless you try."

Santana had Rachel take her home after she finished off her hot chocolate rather than back to the park to freeze to death. Reluctantly taking Rachel's advice, once she put on warm pajamas, Santana sat at her desk and started writing a letter.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Rachel shut her locker the next morning Santana was standing there.

"I did it. I sent her a letter. I told her I loved her and I wanted her to reconsider."

"Good," Rachel said with a smile. "Would you like to come over tonight and study? I'm having a little difficulty with my Spanish verbs."

Santana shrugged. She didn't have anything better to do since she'd left her uniform in a tattered mess on the floor in front of Sue Sylvester's office that morning.

Rachel wasn't nearly as infuriating as Santana thought she would be. She listened more than talked, especially when Santana would launch into rants about how she hadn't gotten a letter back after two weeks and then three. Rachel would soothe her when she cried and seemed to have a never ending supply of hot chocolate on days when Santana just wanted to sit out in the cold and die.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Santana got the letter addressed to her in Brittany's handwriting a month and a half after she sent hers the first thing she did was drive to Rachel's. She didn't open the letter or even really look at it until she was in Rachel's room with the shorter brunette next to her.

"Would you like me to read it first?"

Santana shook her head and shakily peeled open the envelope and unfolded the paper.

_S,_

_Stop sending me letters, please. I'm in love and it's what I want. You should move on and be happy._

_B_

"What do I do, Rachel?"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose you could fight for her…maybe try to find out where she is."

"She doesn't want me to," Santana mumbled. "She would've told me she wanted me to come get her if she wanted me to."

"I guess all you can do is move on, then."

"You don't just _move on_ from Brittany. You just don't."

Rachel cautiously put her hand on Santana's shoulder and squeezed. "I understand."

XXXXXXXXXX

Life went on. Barely. Santana started failing most of her classes; she didn't care. Ms. Pillsbury called her in just before spring break and told her if a miracle didn't happen then she'd have to repeat all of her 11th grade courses in the summer if she wanted to graduate on time. Santana shrugged. Rachel tried to help her but Santana rejected it. She was insistent on not doing much of anything until her parents threatened to kick her out if she didn't bring her grades up; she put a little more effort into it and passed with all C's.

June came and went. Santana spent most of her time walking around Lima aimlessly. If she passed Rachel's house, more often than not, Rachel would come running out the front door to catch up to her and they would walk together. Rachel made her feel not so alone and Santana learned to tune her out…then to tolerate her…then to add a little commentary of her own on whatever Rachel was rambling about. Eventually she realized that Rachel didn't always talk about Broadway. Sometimes she talked about TV shows that Santana actually liked or movies she had memorized. Rachel would talk about almost anything and Santana started having full fledged conversations with her.

XXXXXXXXXX

One such day they were walking through downtown Lima doing some window shopping. They had been arguing over the absurdities of "Jersey Shore" (Santana hated the show; Rachel, for some reason, loved it) when Rachel saw a display in a music store for a mint condition autographed Barbra Streisand album and she went in to inquire about the price while Santana waited outside.

Santana looked at the ground and kicked the sidewalk a few times before someone ran into her sending her to the pavement.

"I'm so…sorry…Santana?"

Santana looked up and she swore she had just died and gone to heaven because a blonde angel was hovering over her with a worried expression.

"Britt?"

Santana scrambled up off the ground and launched herself at the blonde and flung her arms around Brittany's neck. There was no response but Brittany trying to shrug away.

"What are you doing here?" Santana's face lit up. Brittany's didn't.

"Just…here for a few weeks to see my parents." Brittany looked around cautiously.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"Because I…"

A tall blonde man approached the two and wrapped his arm around Brittany's shoulders and kissed her forehead. He said something in Dutch to the blonde girl and Brittany nodded before looking to Santana and smiling.

"Hello," he said.

"Sven…um…this is Santana. We were friends…before I moved."

Sven stuck out his hand and Santana reluctantly took it. The smile faded from her face.

"Wonderful to meet you," he said with a smile and a thick Dutch accent. "I am sorry to cut conversation short but we must go, my little duck. Your parents wait for us."

Brittany nodded and with a smile she reached up and kissed Sven; Santana was horrified. Brittany said something in Dutch and Sven nodded and kissed her forehead again before walking off.

"_Ik hou van je!_" the blonde called after him with a smile. He turned and returned the phrase. Brittany grinned and bounced a few times.

Santana's heart shattered. Brittany always told _her_ that she loved her in Dutch and Santana would return it in Spanish. Hearing her say it to someone else…Santana really wanted to run away and go through with her previous plan of grabbing onto a heavy rock and running into a lake.

"I should go," Brittany said. "Sven is cooking dinner tonight; he's a really good cook. Better than me but he still says I'm the best."

"He's…nice? To you, I mean? Like he doesn't hit your or anything does he?"

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows. "Why would he hit me?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm in love, San. And I'm really happy."

"Are you in love because your parents say you are or because you really think you are? How can you go from telling me you want to come back here for college so we can be together forever to just feeling nothing for me, B?"

"I'm in love because he takes care of me! He's nice and he's smart and he doesn't make me feel stupid and he tells me all the time that I'm good at stuff. He loves me."

"Your parents made you do this!"

"I love him!"

"B…"

"I have to go." Brittany crossed her arms over her chest. "Please let me be happy…and you be happy, too, okay?"

A small smile spread across the blonde's face and Santana smiled a little, too, until she realized that the smile was aimed over her shoulder. She turned to see Sven waving at Brittany to follow him and, of course, Brittany obliged. She took off running and leapt at Sven and into his waiting arms, not even looking back as they walked away. Santana was left standing on the sidewalk, absolutely stunned.

"I don't care what that man says," Rachel growled as she exited the music store, "that is _not_ Barbra's signature. It's all wrong! There's a loop where…Santana?"

Santana had gone practically catatonic until Rachel said her name. She twitched when Rachel touched her shoulder.

"Santana, are you alright?"

"She's happy," the Latina mumbled.

"Who?"

"Brittany."

Rachel looked around curiously. "Santana, are you having a hallucination?"

Santana shrugged Rachel away and they both started walking again. Halfway to her house she started mumbling about what had happened while Rachel was in the record store and by the time they got to her front door she was sobbing and Rachel was trying desperately to hold her friend up as she got Santana inside and to her bedroom. Santana collapsed on her bed and buried her face into her pillow; the bed sank next to her and Rachel's hand was on her back rubbing soothing circles.

"Santana, I don't mean to play the Devil's advocate here but if Brittany truly is happy then perhaps it's time you think about moving on and finding your own happiness."

"Can you just go?" she managed to choke out. "Please…go."

Santana still walked every day and Rachel still walked with her. They sported matching tans by the end of July. She saw Brittany one more time when she was walking. The blonde was animatedly chattering with Sven in a restaurant and the light in her eyes told Santana that she really was happy. She resisted the urge to go speak to them.

XXXXXXXXXX

School started again and Santana worked a little harder at her grades. Each day her heart seemed to heal a little more. She found herself hanging around Rachel more and more and the shorter brunette didn't seem to mind having a friend around. Santana even listened to her talk about Juilliard and New York City and Santana thought maybe she'd look for colleges in New York, too, so at least she'd have a friend wherever she went. She saw Brittany's parents at the store and they gave her a disapproving glance before they turned away; it didn't hurt as bad as she thought it would.

For Halloween, Rachel insisted they dress up and go out; Santana selected a pirate costume and Rachel dressed up as Elphaba and Santana found herself actually laughing for the first time in over a year as Rachel fussed with her dress because it was too long and she kept tripping over it. Rachel smiled up at Santana when she laughed and the Latina felt her heart flutter a little and heat rise to her cheeks.

Rachel invited Santana over to celebrate Hanukkah with her dads and Rachel spent Christmas with the Lopezes. She spent the night Christmas Eve so she could wake up with the family on Christmas morning and, because there were no extra beds or couches due to Santana's relatives flying in for the holiday, Santana found herself in her small twin bed with the diva. By morning Rachel was halfway on top of her and Santana's arm was around Rachel's shoulders, her other around Rachel's waist. Rachel's head was tucked under Santana's chin and her hair smelled like citrus. Santana absentmindedly started tracing Rachel's shoulder with her thumb and Rachel whimpered a little and hugged tighter around Santana's waist.

For New Year's they went to Puck's annual party; Santana refused the drinks that were being passed around because she'd been the one to drive there. Rachel refused them because she didn't want Santana to feel left out. Rachel was next to her when the countdown started for the ball to drop in New York City.

At ten Rachel turned to face her.

At nine Rachel smiled.

At eight Santana smiled.

At seven Santana reached out and searched to put a hand on Rachel's hip.

At six she found it.

At five Santana's heart almost shot out of her chest.

At four Rachel licked her lips.

At three Rachel closed her eyes.

At two Santana leaned in.

At one Santana closed her eyes.

At "Happy new year!" Santana pressed her lips to Rachel's and Rachel wrapped her arms around Santana's neck and pulled her in closer. When Santana pulled away Rachel was smiling her signature Rachel Berry smile and Santana, for the first time in a long time, felt truly and undeniably happy.


	5. Appendicitis

**Summary:** Rachel always got nervous before a big show.

* * *

Santana expected for Rachel to be nervous the night before one of her performances; Rachel always got nervous when it was rumored there was going to be a celebrity in the audience. When the rumors started circulating and were confirmed that in less than twenty-four hours Rachel's company would be performing for none other than her idol it wasn't really a shock that the budding starlet was a little sick the night before.

As she always did when she was nervous, Rachel complained that her stomach hurt and so Santana put out a spread of Pepto Bismol, ginger ale, and saltine crackers for her while they snuggled up and watched TV the night before the show. They were in the middle of a _Golden Girls_marathon; Santana wasn't really paying attention to the screen, she was combing her fingertips through Rachel's thick hair to calm her down. On any normal night, with any normal nervousness, it would have worked. But Rachel kept shifting and with each shift, she would tense up. Santana furrowed her eyebrows when her fingertips ran over Rachel's forehead and the skin was entirely too warm.

"Babe, are you sure this is just nerves?" Santana asked.

"Of course it is," Rachel said with a wince as she shifted. "I'll be performing for Barbra Streisand in nineteen hours, anyone would be nervous."

"Your forehead feels warm."

"I'm fine," Rachel assured her, settling her head back on Santana's shoulder.

Santana craned her neck to press a kiss against Rachel's forehead, her eyebrows furrowing at the definitely too-warm and a little clammy skin. But, Rachel was just as stubborn as an adult as she had been as a teenager and therefore, there was no convincing her that she was anything but fine. Santana could only shrug and wrap her arms around Rachel's waist to pull her in close.

"Can you loosen your grip? I'm not going anywhere, you don't have to crush me."

"I'm not holding on that tight, Rach."

"Well your hands are digging into my stomach, it hurts."

Santana loosened her grip, as requested, and Rachel relaxed back into her with a sigh. In only a few minutes, however, Santana felt Rachel begin trembling and her breathing become shallow. Rachel pushed Santana's hands off of her completely but before Santana could say a word, Rachel cried out and clutched on to her lower stomach.

"Rachel…"

All that came was a whimper and Rachel trying to move as quickly as she could in the direction of the bathroom; Santana followed and pulled her girlfriend's hair back as she emptied what little was in her stomach into their toilet. Rachel cried out again and clutched her right side; Santana started internally panicking. She grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the cool water then wiped down Rachel's face and kissed her forehead.

"We're going to the hospital," Santana said.

"I'm fine," Rachel gasped. "I…have to perform…tomorrow."

"I'm the one studying to get MD behind her name, Rachel. Something's wrong and the only place you're going right now is to the emergency room."

With tears streaming down her face, Rachel nodded.

"It hurts," she whimpered. "It hurts really bad, San."

Santana wrapped her arm around Rachel's back and helped her up off the floor, practically carrying her back to the living room. She sat Rachel down long enough to slip her "quick trip" sandals on her feet and quickly laced up her own shoes, grabbed her wallet and keys, and headed out the front door. It only took a few seconds to get a cab and Santana promised the driver a $20 tip if he could get them to the nearest hospital in under five minutes. It took four and a half and Santana paid him an extra $10 on top of it all since Rachel threw up in the back seat.

Luckily, the emergency waiting room wasn't too crowded. It didn't stop Santana from growling at the triage nurse when someone was called back before Rachel. The old man was like a hundred or something, he needed to go anyways. Santana tried to go tell the triage nurse exactly that but was pulled back and hugged close. Santana just glared at the nurse at the desk and wrapped her arm around Rachel's back to rub soothing circles and attempt to calm her down.

Half an hour and two almost-rants later, a couple of incredibly drunk college boys stumbled in to the waiting room and nearly collapsed right on top of the pair. Security had to be called to "contain the crazy Latina girl threatening to rip a young man's scrotum off with her bare hands, and something about bad things happening in Lima Heights Adjacent". Rachel was taken back almost immediately.

"I think this is the first time I've taken your clothes off without knowing I'll get some," Santana chuckled, helping Rachel remove her shirt. It got a small smile from Rachel which was better than crying.

Together they managed to figure out the hospital gown and get it tied properly and Rachel into bed. Santana described Rachel's symptoms to the registration girl and handed over insurance cards and all the other bullshit they had to go through. A nurse soon followed and handed Rachel a plastic package containing a small cup. Rachel groaned. Santana only nodded and helped Rachel out of bed and in to the small bathroom attached to the room.

"Do you want me to help?" Santana chewed her lip, attempting to squelch the awkward feeling in her stomach. She loved Rachel, she really did but...she wasn't sure if they were _there_yet.

Rachel shook her head. "I think I can handle it."

"I'll stay here, right outside the door."

Rachel nodded and Santana stepped out of the bathroom, staying right outside the door as promised. She picked at her fingernails until she heard a flush and running water. Rachel exited, cup in hand, and Santana helped her back to the bed. Santana tried to find something on TV that didn't suck but it didn't look as though she was going to find anything. She finally settled on "Andy Griffith" reruns.

Yet another nurse came in with a young man carrying a tray of vials, tubes, and a saline bag. Rachel was calm, Santana growled, daring the nurse to even make Rachel flinch. The moment the needle went in, the young and eager-looking hospital volunteer threw up which made Santana yell at him and in turn made Rachel jerk and pull her IV out which created more blood. The young man passed out and the nurse just rolled her eyes.

"It's his first night," the nurse said, grabbing a piece of gauze to stop the bleeding out of Rachel's arm. "Happens all the time."

"He's lucky he passed out."

"San, can you call my dads?"

Santana almost protested but Rachel's teary puppy eyes completely broke her. She pressed a kiss to Rachel's forehead and exited the room, stepping over the still passed-out attendant. A second nurse stepped in to wake him just as Santana dialed the Berry house. She knew she had woken them up by the way Leroy answered the phone but neither man minded when Santana told them where they were and why. Santana promised to keep them updated and that if it was anything serious they would be on the next flight out.

When Santana returned to Rachel's room the attendant had been taken out and the floor cleaned. Rachel was sporting a large bruise in the crook of her left arm and the IV had been relocated to the back of her right hand. Santana pressed a featherlight kiss to the bruise and another to Rachel's forehead.

"You're being rather stoic," Rachel said with a sniffle after Santana settled herself on the edge of the bed, facing Rachel and holding her hand.

Santana could see the pain behind the girl's eyes as she tried desperately hard not to cry. It broke her heart. "You're the one in pain here, babe."

Rachel swallowed hard and Santana clutched onto her hand a little harder then brought it up to her mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

"I'm scared," Rachel whispered.

"You're gonna be fine."

They finally saw a doctor and Santana again described Rachel's symptoms and he looked through her chart, Santana knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"I want to do an ultrasound to confirm," he said, "but I'm fairly certain you have appendicitis, Ms. Berry."

Santana only nodded; Rachel whimpered and squeezed Santana's hand a bit. It only took a few minutes for a woman to roll in a portable ultrasound machine.

"Hey, maybe we'll find out you're pregnant."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows.

"You never know, babe, I could be _that_good."

Rachel rolled her eyes, again a small smile crossing her lips. Santana kissed her forehead again and focused on the screen after the tech squirted blue gel onto Rachel's stomach and pressed the wand down. Rachel winced and tightened her grip on Santana's hand. It only took a few minutes and a few clicks of some buttons before it was over with.

"It's definitely inflamed," the technician said. "The doctor will have to look at it to confirm, though." The tech handed over a few paper towels to Santana and the brunette carefully cleaned off Rachel's stomach.

"Thanks," Santana said to the departing tech. "Hey," she whispered upon seeing a few tears drop down Rachel's cheeks, "it'll be okay."

Rachel only nodded.

It didn't take long before the doctor returned with a computer, clipboard, and pen.

"Ms. Berry, as you can see in the stills, your appendix is very inflamed. We need to remove it immediately."

"How long with that take?" Rachel asked.

"An hour or so, not long at all."

"And how long will I be out of work?"

"It could be up to three weeks before you can resume full activity. I'm well aware that you're a performer but you'll need to take it easy."

Santana held on, full well knowing what was coming.

Rachel gasped. "No! No! I'm not sure you fully understand the importance of the performance I am scheduled to appear in tomorrow night. Barbra Streisand is going to be in my theater! I cannot miss this performance! What if she is there to find a suitable young ingénue to reprise her role as the iconic Fanny Brice in a re-make of _Funny Girl_? Or in a stage revival? Surgery will have to wait. Isn't there something you can administer that will subside the pain for the performance?"  
The doctor blinked and Santana sighed.

"Babe, you're going to have to miss the show."

"No!"

"Ms. Berry, I'm very sorry but you will have to miss it. You need to have surgery before your appendix ruptures. If that happens it can be very dangerous, life threatening even. I need you to sign these consent forms so we can get you into surgery."

"I won't do it. I demand to be released immediately."

"We can't keep you against your will but I am strongly advising you to reconsider."

"She's not going anywhere." Santana gripped Rachel's shoulder. "She's going to sign the consent forms and have surgery."

"No, I'm not."

Santana growled. "Yes you are or I'm going to call your dads and have one of them-"

Santana was cut off by a cry from Rachel as she held onto her side. The doctor dropped the papers at the foot of the bed and pressed his hand against Rachel's hip and she cried out again.

"Ms. Berry, we need to do surgery right now."

Rachel was groaning in pain, begging for it to stop; Santana could only rub circles on her back and beg her to reconsider.

"Just do the surgery," Santana pleaded.

"We need her consent."

"Baby," Santana cupped Rachel's face in her hands, "please let them do it. Please. It's not worth your life, it's not."

"But…"

"I don't want to lose you like this," Santana whispered. "It's not worth your life, Rachel. I love you and I want to spend a lot more time with you. Let them do it."

Rachel whimpered and nodded. "Do it."

"That good enough?" Santana looked at the doctor and he nodded.

"We'll get her upstairs right away."

XXXXXXXXXX

Santana paced the floor back and forth after she kissed Rachel's forehead and they took her into the operating room. She called Rachel's dads right afterward, the conversation was short because Santana was quickly losing her grip on staying stoic. A second call was placed to Rachel's director telling him what was happening and that Rachel would be out for three weeks. He sounded frustrated but a snapped, "Unless you want her to fucking die on stage," made him apologize and send his well-wishes.

Santana continued pacing the floor in the operating waiting room holding a blue disc that was to light up and vibrate when she had to go to the nurse's station. It was kind of pointless since she was about six feet away from the desk. Someone came around with a magazine cart and a plate of cookies. They gave a sympathetic smile and Santana swallowed hard and nodded graciously as she took one of the large chocolate chip cookies. She kept pacing as she nibbled away.

Finally, she heard the doors from the operating room open and a doctor came in, he walked toward her but veered off to another family that was waiting. Santana sighed and dropped to a chair with her head in her hands.

"Please, God, just let her be okay," she murmured.

Santana jumped and shrieked a little when the blue disc on her lap started vibrating and lighting up. It took two huge leaps to get to the nurse's desk and a woman in pink scrubs led Santana through a set of doors and down a row of beds. Santana wrung her hands and the nurse pulled back a curtain to reveal a sleeping Rachel.

"The doctor will be by in a moment," the woman said.

"Thank you," Santana managed to choke out.

The Latina carefully picked up Rachel's hand and kissed the back of it. She watched the small brunette's chest rise and fall for a few minutes before the doctor came in.

"The surgery was successful," he said. "Her appendix hadn't ruptured yet but it was very close, you're lucky you got her in when you did. She fought the anesthesia, we had to give her a higher dose than we normally would for this procedure but it's nothing dangerous. It just means she'll be asleep for a while. We'll keep her through tomorrow and see how she does before we decide whether or not to discharge her."

Santana nodded, unable to speak due to the lump in her throat increasing in size every second. When the curtain closed behind the man in blue scrubs, Santana leaned down and pressed a kiss to Rachel's forehead and let the tears roll.

"Don't you ever scare me like this again, Berry," she whispered against Rachel's forehead.

Rachel whimpered and shifted a little but didn't wake.

Santana followed the orderlies as they took Rachel up to a regular room and as soon as she was settled, Santana called the Berry men to let them know everything was alright. She settled herself in one of the uncomfortable hospital recliners and took Rachel's hand and waited. Every time Santana would close her eyes they would snap open again at every twitch or every whimper from Rachel.

The sunrise through the hospital window was a bit dull when Santana watched it. She'd had, collectively, maybe two hours of sleep. Rachel shifted, snapping Santana's attention back to her girlfriend in bed. Santana gripped on to Rachel's hand and brushed the hair out of her face, staying right in Rachel's line of vision to ensure that she was the first thing that Rachel saw when her eyes finally fluttered open.

"Santana?"

"Right here, babe."

Rachel slowly opened her eyes and Santana kept a hand on Rachel's cheek.

"Am I going to die?"

"No, Drama Queen, you're not going to die. They did the surgery and you were about five minutes away from your appendix rupturing _and_you fought the anesthesia. Next time you're not going to argue when a doctor says you need surgery."

"I have to perform tonight."

"Or not."

"This could be a pivotal moment in my career, Santana."

"Yeah, and you could rip your stitches out and bleed all over the front row. Do you really want Babs covered in your blood? I don't think she'll appreciate that."

"She'll be in the balcony, probably in her own private box."

Santana groaned and leaned forward to press a kiss to Rachel's forehead. "You're staying right here until the docs say otherwise. After that you're staying at home and I'm taking care of you, got it?"

"But…"

"Look," Santana growled, "I already almost lost you once in the last twenty-four hours, Rachel. I'm not fucking going through that again when you overdo it or rip your stitches out just because you want to perform. I swear to God I'll tie you down."

Rachel smiled a little. "You were really worried?"

"Well…yeah! Shit, you're my girlfriend, why wouldn't I be? You think I'm that coldhearted? I love you, babe, of course I was worried."

Rachel sighed and squeezed Santana's hand and gave a defeated smile.

"No show tonight," the starlet mumbled. "But if I've been released by then I demand that we at least attend."

"We'll see what the doctor says."

In true determined Rachel Berry fashion she was up walking the moment the doctor said it was alright. She whimpered with the first few steps and Santana held onto her even though Rachel insisted she could walk just fine. The Latina wasn't taking any chances. Around three in the afternoon, Rachel started getting fidgety and Santana knew why. The doctor hadn't said anything about a release yet, just a "we'll see how the day goes".

The doctor came in for his final rounds at five o'clock rounds and flipped through Rachel's charts. Santana glared at him, Rachel trembled a little bit.

"Assuming all goes well tonight, Ms. Berry, I think you should be able to go home tomorrow morning."

Santana wrapped her arm tight around Rachel's shoulder as the small brunette started trembling harder. The tears started flowing and Santana gently wiped them away with the corner of Rachel's blanket.

"You'll get another shot, babe."

"I don't _want_ another shot!" Rachel growled. "I want _this_ shot! This has been my dream since the first time I saw _Funny Girl_! Why do I have to stay here? I'm fine! I've been walking and I'm only a little sore. Why do I have to stay here?"

"We want to watch for complications and infections," the doctor said. "It's standard procedure to keep the patient at least two or three days."

"And if I demand to leave?"

"We can't keep you here against your will…"

"I demand to leave," Rachel cut him off. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I want to be discharged immediately."

"Rachel, no."

"You can't tell me what to do." Rachel shrugged away from her girlfriend and whimpered a bit, her hand moved down to hold onto the small pillow over her lower abdomen.

"Damn it, Rachel! Stop being so selfish!"

"Wh-what?"

"Oh my God, I'm going to miss Barbra Streisand, my dream come true!" Santana mocked the other brunette. She loved Rachel, she really did, but sometimes Rachel didn't get that the little things she said stung a bit.

"What about it?"

"Did you ever think about anyone else's dreams? Did you ever think that maybe _my_dream is not to have my girlfriend die from an infection or bleed to death because she got excited and ripped her stitches out? It's illegal to marry a corpse, Rachel!"

Santana's last statement echoed through the room like it was the Grand Canyon. Rachel's eyes went wide and she gasped. The doctor cleared his throat a little and rocked on his feet trying not to look at the two women in the hospital bed.

"You just said…"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Is that a proposal, Santana Lopez?"

"Not if you're demanding to be discharged." Santana stood from the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. Yeah, she may have settled down a little since high school but she still harbored the power to manipulate whenever she needed to.

"You're asking me to choose between you and Barbra Streisand? How dare you?"

"No I'm asking you to not be an idiot and listen to the doctor, Berry. I love you and yeah, I want to get married but I want to marry a girl that isn't stupid enough to risk her life like this." Santana dropped back to the bed and pulled Rachel's hand to her lap. "I love you. There will be other chances for you to meet her."

"But what if…"

"Rachel, please, I'm begging you. Don't take this risk. I'm not going to leave you if you go but I'm asking you not to and there isn't much I have ever asked of you except to maybe be quiet so the neighbors don't complain." Santana cracked a smile and Rachel giggled a little with tears streaming down her face. "Please, baby, please. I'm not asking you to choose, I'm asking you to be smart about this."

Rachel nodded and Santana reached out to wipe the tears off of the diva's face. "I'll stay."

"Thank you."

"Keep walking, Ms. Berry. But I stress, do _not_over exert yourself. It will only hinder your recovery."

Santana stayed by Rachel's bedside for the remainder of the night, only leaving to get dinner when Rachel threatened to start doing jumping jacks if she didn't.

Around 10:30 that night, well after Rachel had dozed off and just about the time her castmates would be leaving the theater, Santana's phone lit up and began vibrating on the hospital tray. She grabbed it quickly and checked to make sure that Rachel was still sleeping before checking her messages. A video message popped up and what Santana saw made her face split into a wide grin. She debated for a couple of seconds as to whether or not to wake Rachel, eventually deciding to do it because she'd be sleeping on the couch for a week if Rachel didn't see the message right away.

"Rachel?"

"I think I'll try defying gravity," Rachel sang softly.

"Rach, wake up."

Rachel jerked awake, groaning in pain as she did so. Santana flinched at the power of Rachel's hand gripping tight to her own as the pain subsided and almost regretted waking her girlfriend.

"What's wrong?"

"I have something you need to see."

Santana held up her phone in front of Rachel's face and pressed play, the screen fading in from black and there, backstage of Rachel's show, was Barbra Streisand.

"_Good evening, Rachel! I just heard about what happened and can I say I am so very sorry that I didn't get the chance to see you perform tonight. All of your cast members have been going non-stop about how wonderful you are and I look forward to a time when I can see you perform. Until then, get well soon!"_

Santana smiled as she watched Rachel's jaw slowly drop and the smaller girl began shaking.

"B-b-barbra..."

"Yeah. I just got it a little while ago."

"B-b-barbra..."

"I know, babe."

"S-s-streisand..."

"Yeah."

The heart monitor by Rachel's bedside began racing off the charts sending two nurses in with a crash cart.

"Ms. Berry, are you okay?"

"She's fine," Santana answered. "Just got a little excited. Barbra Streisand sent her a video."

The nurse in Yankees scrubs quirked an eyebrow, the one in pink smiled widely.

"Keep the excitement to a minimum," Yankess scrubs nurse growled. She stormed out of the room with the crash cart leaving the other nurse behind.

"Can I see it?" the nurse squealed. "I _love_Barbra."

Santana eventually had to put the video on repeat because she got tired of reaching over to hit the play button. It played constantly for an hour. Santana had it memorized by the time Rachel fell back asleep.

This time, when dawn broke, Santana wasn't awake to see it. She was so exhausted that she'd fallen asleep in the hospital recliner and was unaware of anything happening until she drifted back in to consciousness to see a huge, elaborate flower arrangement being placed on the hospital room dresser. The florist handed a small card to Rachel.

"Who are those from?" Santana yawned.

"I have no idea."

Santana rubbed her eyes while Rachel carefully pulled the small card out of the envelope. A shriek made Santana stand straight up and took the last of the tiredness out of her.

"Santana! Santana, listen to this!"

"Listening."

"_I hope you got my video last night. Enjoy the flowers and get back on stage soon. With love, Barbra_."

"Awesome, babe."

"This was really signed by her! I recognize the signature. Sh-she held this in her hands! Barbra _touched_this card."

"I'll get a frame for it."

"Oh, please do! Can you go now? Is there a frame shop open nearby?"

"Rach," Santana dropped back to the recliner, "we'll get one when you get home. Until then, I'll put it with the flowers."

Rachel continued walking all over the hospital floor for the duration of the morning, proving to the doctor that she was more than ready to go home. He consented and after lunch, Santana packed Rachel's things while the nurses got her IV taken out and final paperwork signed. Rather than take a cab, Santana called one of Rachel's castmates to bring their car and leave it in the hospital parking lot. Rachel never let go of the small card that came with the flower arrangement as Santana drove them home.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't mean to be a back-seat driver – although I'm in the front seat - but...the speed limit is above fifteen. There's a line of cars behind us."

"They'll get over it."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were being protective of me."

"Yeah, well...You don't need your stitches ripped out thanks to some dumbass. I had to practically propose to you to get you to stay in your bed, I'm not taking any chances."

"Alright, Santana. About that proposal, I must say it was rather inadequate."

"It was spur of the moment."

"Did you mean it?"

"I told you I did."

"I know...but do you still mean it? Do you intend to marry me now that I've recovered and been given a clean bill of health?"

Santana cleared her throat and stretched her neck a little. It was a double edged sword she was facing. If she said 'no' then Rachel would be pissed. If she said 'yes' then Rachel would be pissed about not getting a more elaborate proposal. It was Santana's intention to propose to Rachel, it really was. She hadn't picked out a ring or anything but she knew she wanted to. Deciding that the truth was the best route, Santana took a deep breath.

"Yeah."

"Is that your official proposal?"

"I don't know. Maybe? I know you want some huge elaborate thing where I profess my love for you with a blimp or a live TV proposal or whatever but it's out there now so yeah. That's my proposal."

"Oh my goodness."

Santana panicked when she heard Rachel start hyperventilating next to her. She veered off the road and onto the shoulder, slammed the car into park and reached over to try to get Rachel to breathe again.

"What? Did you throw a clot? Rachel, talk to me!"

"You...proposed!" Rachel gasped.

"Calm down before you blow out your stitches!"

"We're getting married! I have to call everyone!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Santana grabbed Rachel's hands, searching for her phone, and got her girlfriend's attention. "Look," she breathed, "I want to wait."

"Wait? Why?"

"Because I want to make sure we're doing alright before we add that stress, you know? I want to finish school and make sure we're doing good because, like...you know. After that we'll probably want...other things."

"Kids?"

"Yeah, those."

"You want kids?"

"Maybe."

"You want kids...with me?"

Santana panicked when Rachel yet again started hyperventilating. "Oh God, calm down!"

"I'm sorry...it's just...all very sudden..."

"You don't have to freak out!"

"I just never thought we'd be having this conversation. You must understand that I believed you were content with our current status until you first mentioned the idea of getting married and now the idea of children has entered the picture and I'm just very overwhelmed right now. I need to begin mapping this out."

"I told you...I want to wait. When I'm almost done with my residency we'll start planning, okay? By then you'll be a huge star," Santana smiled, "and we'll get married. And we'll start a family after I've got a job I know won't get in the way of everything."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah."

Rachel's mouth split into a wide grin and, still clutching her signed card from Barbra, she reached over to pull Santana in and press a searing kiss to her lips.

"I cannot wait until I'm healed," Rachel whispered, "because you are _so_getting some."

"Oh hell yes," Santana mumbled.

Santana consented to let Rachel see her castmates the next night; they all regaled her with tales of Barbra and showed off pictures. Rachel had pictures on her phone of the flowers that were currently hanging up to dry from Barbra herself and the now framed card and envelope sent with them.

Rachel booked a wedding planner appointment for exactly one month after Santana was scheduled to get her M.D., citing that the planner was one of the most sought after in New York and they needed to make plans now, lest she be booked up when the big day finally came. Santana only shrugged. She could get married on the sidewalk for all she cared. As long as it was Rachel by her side and healthy, that was all that mattered. But it's not like she was soft or anything. Not at all.


	6. Lies

**Installment Summary:** Rachel's thirst for stardom and recognition could be the end of her and Santana. (With an appearance by Noah Puckerman)

* * *

Having a famous girlfriend was pretty damn awesome according to Santana Lopez. It wasn't because Rachel was making a really good salary from her show that could've easily supported them both or that she got showered with gifts and free things (that shit was totally awesome, don't get her wrong) but it meant Rachel was happy which meant Santana was happy and life was easy. Rachel wasn't an A-lister just yet but she was definitely getting there. After her quick role on CSI she got an offer for a six episode story arc on a medical drama being filmed in the city and then a nice-sized role in the 30th James Bond movie that had just wrapped up. Rachel was on her way up and Santana was more than proud to be right there beside her.

Santana hung her keys on the rack by the front door as she stepped into hers and Rachel's (very, very nice) apartment after a grueling 16-hour shift in the emergency department. She loved the emergency room, she really did, but the shifts were killing her and she still had a year of residency to go. She knew if she could just stick it out that it'd all be worth it. She was eying a job with a general physician who had pretty much guaranteed her a spot if she could survive a three-year residency in the emergency room.

The sound of Rachel singing echoed through the apartment and into Santana's ears and she smiled. Rachel always sang when she was happy which meant Santana's evening was hopefully going to be pleasant and she might get a little something-something before bed. Santana quietly padded into the kitchen and slipped her arms around her girl; Rachel sighed happily and leaned back into Santana's embrace.

"Smells good, babe," Santana whispered.

"Enchiladas, is that satisfactory?"

"Sounds perfect. Do I have time to shower?"

"Of course. You know perfectly well I time these things in order to give you optimal time to wash whatever bodily fluids you may or may not have been covered in while saving the lives of your fellow New Yorkers."

Santana pressed a kiss to Rachel's neck before heading to the shower with a smile. Rachel was in a really, _really_good mood. Enchiladas were Santana's favorite and Rachel knew exactly how to make them. The good plates were set out on the dining room table when Santana passed, along with candles and fresh flowers and she smiled even brighter before stopping dead in her tracks. Something was off. Nine times out of ten enchiladas and good plates were what Rachel used as her "I'm sorry" after a fight. The other one time was when she had news that Santana wasn't going to like.

"Rachel," Santana called as she turned and marched back to the kitchen. "What did you do?"

Rachel stiffed at her position at the stove and let out a muttered expletive; Santana started tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for a response.

"What did you do, Rachel?"

"I haven't done anything." Rachel set her sauce spoon down on the stove and turned slowly, her eyes locked with Santana's and she took a deep breath. "I got offered to do a job."

"And?"

"And I thought there might be the possibility that you were offended by the proposition enough to be angry with either myself or my publicist for even considering it."

"Go on."

"It's a magazine spread. A cover shoot."

Santana pursed her lips, unsure of exactly where this was going but absolutely sure she wasn't going to like it. "Which magazine?"

"Before you say anything, it's just an offer. I haven't accepted nor denied it and if you oppose the idea then-"

"Which magazine?"

"Playboy."

"No." Not only no, but _fuck no_, actually. Santana didn't say it because the tone of her voice would express her distaste at the idea. She was _not_ going to have sleazy truckers jacking off to pictures of _her_ girl. Santana was the _only_one allowed to do that, thank you very much.

"Alright."

Santana took a startled step back as Rachel smiled and turned back to the stove. She was absolutely sure that Rachel would argue with her; that was always how these things went. Santana would say "no" and Rachel would come up with several arguments as to why she should take the opposite stance and then eventually get Santana into bed and then Santana would agree to whatever Rachel said.

"Wait, you're not going to argue with me?"

"I clearly stated that if you had a problem with the photoshoot that I wouldn't partake."

"Do you want to do it?"

"Whether or not I want to do it isn't the issue, Santana. If you're uncomfortable with the idea then I won't do it. After the _CSI_debacle I've always made it a point to make sure you approve of the projects I take on."

"You always take them on whether I want you to or not, Rachel. You get me into bed and you convince me it's not a bad idea and I only agree because you've got all your clothes off. Do you really think I would've agreed to let you be a Bond girl and go macking on that British guy if you'd just stood there and asked a few times with all your clothes on?"

"I'm not sure whether I should be flattered you find my physique that appealing or offended that you don't find my rhetoric at all convincing."

Santana crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. Rachel pouted a little and stepped forward to take Santana into her arms and press a kiss to her neck.

"Baby," Rachel cooed, "if you don't want me to do it then I won't. While it would be a new and exciting experience, if you're honestly not comfortable with it then just tell me."

"Do you want to?" Santana sighed.

"That's not-"

"Do you want to, Rachel?" Santana growled. Rachel looked up at her with wide eyes and a little bit of a pout.

"The experience would be fun. And I'm sure they'd let you keep copies of everything, plus the outtakes."

"Fine," Santana sighed. Rachel squealed and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "But!"

Rachel froze. "Of course, terms and conditions. Why don't you go take a long, hot shower while I finish dinner?"

Santana stretched her neck and grumbled as she headed to take a much needed shower. It was one of the rare days when she actually wasn't sprayed in blood by a leaky artery or vomited on by a kid or sprayed with piss when an elderly person ripped out their catheter (God, she had wanted to euthanize that old bastard!) but she was still sore and tired. She'd helped lift a 530 pound man off of a gurney after he (surprise, surprise!) had chest pains. It was indigestion caused by the six fucking Big Macs he'd eaten, as it turns out, and he was sent home with a bottle of Mylanta and the number of a nutritionist he'd probably never call. She also wrapped two broken wrists, a broken ankle, and gave stitches eight times. There had been a pile up and she took on three trauma patients at once, moving back and forth and miraculously avoiding all of the blood. No one had died on her watch that day, though. She marked it as a good day based on that fact alone.

The scalding hot water felt amazing pulsating over her shoulders as she thoroughly enjoyed the multiple jets coming from the shower walls. She thought about how she'd just agreed to let her girlfriend take all her clothes off to be shot for a magazine that would be shoved under teen boys' mattresses and hidden from men's wives. She didn't have to expose anything, though, right? She could keep her back turned or do a little sideboob. It didn't have to be full frontal or anything. She'd be alright with a from behind shot. They did one for the Bond movie and it was just fine. It would all be just fine.

Santana reluctantly got out of the shower when the water started to turn warm and changed into shorts and a tanktop. She refused to call them pajamas because she slept naked most of the time. As did Rachel. Santana smirked. She was so getting some tonight

The table was set and plates were full when Santana got to the dining room and took one of the places at the meticulously set table. A glass of red wine was waiting.

"No full frontal," Santana said as she sat down. "Sideboob is fine, so is backside. No frontal unless you're covered. And I get to be there for the shoot."

Rachel nodded as she spread her napkin out on her lap and took a generous sip of wine, followed by another. "Of course, Santana."

Santana snorted. She wasn't temperamental enough to make Rachel drink. Definitely not.

XXXXXXXXXX

"No!"

As Santana stepped in front of Rachel, the diva covered from head to toe in green body paint and only a broom and a hat on set to cover her with, the photographer dropped to a chair and growled.

It was the third set of the shoot and Santana had protested the beginning of each one until wardrobe caved and brought more clothing or Rachel was only photographed from the side or from behind. It was her girl, though, damn it. She was entitled to be protective.

"Santana," Rachel sighed, "what's wrong?"

"Being covered in paint doesn't count as clothing."

"I have cover ups."

"Not enough."

"Alright. I request that, while the wardrobe ladies find something else to use for cover, that you bring me a caramel macchiato with a double shot of espresso. There's a Starbucks just around the corner."

Santana growled at the wardrobe assistant and yanked the robe from her hands to cover her girl before retreating from the stage to go hunt down Rachel's coffee. At least someone was finally listening to her. The bitter cold New York air bit at her as she hurried around the corner to Starbucks only to find it being closed for renovation. Normally, Santana would go back empty-handed and tell Rachel to drink something normal for once but she knew she was probably already in the doghouse for interrupting the photoshoot an uncountable number of times and so the decision was made to search for the next nearest Starbucks…which turned out to be three blocks away and absolutely packed.

It should've made Santana a little suspicious when she saw one of the prop masters from the shoot scramble away from the door of the building and to the stairs when she returned but considering that she'd just practically run three blocks with a scalding hot coffee in her hands, she didn't think twice of it. When Santana returned to the set it was almost exactly as she had left it, Rachel was still wrapped up in her robe, everyone else scurrying about. The wardrobe department walked out with an extremely short and low-cut black dress for Santana's approval.

XXXXXXXXXX

When the Playboy issue came out there were a lot of calls from Santana and Rachel's former classmates (most notably from Puck, "I'm flying in to the NY to play a gig with my band. You guys want a threesome? Berry's gotta only wear the green paint, though") and a lot of flack from some conservative parenting council. Santana got wolf whistles at work; Rachel was bombarded with requests for other magazines.

And Santana slept in the doctor's lounge for two weeks.

It wasn't Rachel that put her there, though. It was a voluntary choice that was done very quietly but with a _lot_of rage.

When Santana received her advanced copy of the Playboy magazine featuring her girl it wasn't so bad at first. The cover was the little black dress that Santana had approved of and the first few pictures with the bulk of Rachel's interview were all things Santana had approved of. The centerfold, however, was _not_Santana approved. Rachel was in green paint and with a hat on her head, broomstick covering barely anything. And that was it.

"_I thought once you saw it..."_

"I'll be at the hospital if you need anything," Santana mumbled, tears prickling her eyes. "I can't talk about this right now."

"We need to talk."

_"No," Santana looked up and shook her head. "Because I know I'll say a lot of things that I'll regret and I don't want to do that to us."_

It's how Santana found herself, fourteen days later (and on hers and Rachel's anniversary) not in bed with Rachel but at the hospital. In the doctor's lounge. And with a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Her co-workers kept nudging her to go home but all Santana did was drink and cry. She was about ten seconds from passing out when she felt herself being hoisted over someone's shoulder and carried out of the hospital.

"What the fuck?"

"Still a weepy drunk, Lopez?"

"Puckerman?"

"Go to sleep. I'll wake you up when you get back to your place so you can throw up."

Indeed, about half an hour later, Santana was on the bathroom floor with someone holding her hair back while she emptied what little was in her stomach (cheese and crackers from the vending machine, last time she checked).

"I haven't seen you puke this much since high school."

"Shut it, Puck."

"Finish up and I'll throw you in bed."

"I wanna go back to the _-hic-_hospital."

"No, you're gonna stay here and fix shit with your girl or I'm taking a shot."

"Fuck you."

The next thing Santana was aware of was a cold washcloth on her forehead and her stomach churning. Two (very blurry) slices of toast appeared in front of her and she eagerly took them to calm her stomach.

"It's cinnamon sugar," a soft voice spoke. "I know it's your favorite."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Santana, I believe when your hangover subsides that it's imperative we discuss what happened. And by that I mean, I have some profuse apologizing to do."

"Understatement of the year."

"We'll talk about it later if..."

"No, we'll talk about it while I can't move to walk out again."

Santana finally turned her head to see Rachel on a chair next to their bed, looking like she hadn't slept in weeks and had cried for that duration. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, which is what Rachel did when she didn't shower for a couple days. She was wearing her lazy day sweats with mustard stains down the front of Santana's old NYU shirt. Vegan hotdogs with organic mustard and onions were Rachel's depressed food.

"Hi," Rachel whispered.

"Hey."

"Santana, I'm so sorry. What I did was stupid and inconsiderate and I should never have tricked you like that."

"Did you have it all planned out?"

"I had remembered the closed Starbucks during the third shoot..."

"God damn it, Rachel. Why? Why would you want to do this? You think it's going to make you more popular or boost your status or whatever? That's bullshit and you know it. What the hell happened to no nudity?"

"I...I was blinded by the flattery of the offer."

"It's a fucking sleezy magazine."

"If you'd received that offer, you would've been flattered."

"Yeah, when I was eighteen."

"I still aspire to be a star. Just as I did when I was high school."

Santana shook her head and slid down to lay and let her stomach settle, and rolled to her side, propping herself up on her elbow. This was ridiculous.

"You're on your way. If you'd just be freakin' patient..."

"Since when have I ever been patient?"

"Never."

"We can work through this, Santana. We'll go to couples' therapy and perhaps I could benefit from a few individual sessions to deal with my craving for approval."

Santana shrugged. She wasn't sure, honestly. She didn't know if things could get better. It wasn't like Rachel had cheated on her or anything but this was a pretty big lie. And it was after Santana had blatantly disapproved of what Rachel did.

"Santana, please. I can't lose you. I love you."

"You lied to me, Rachel."

"And for that I apologize. I'll make it up to you somehow, I swear I will."

"I don't know."

"What do I have to do?"

"I don't know, Rachel." Santana rolled back to stare up at the ceiling, trying to conceal the tears she knew were coming.

"I love you."

"Yeah, but do you respect me?"

The bed shifted and Santana let a single rogue tear slide out of her eye when she felt Rachel's hand on her shoulder and her hair being pushed back.

"Of course I do, Santana. Please, just tell me how to make this right."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Santana choked. "I mean, how do I know that when you tell me you're going to work that you're not going somewhere else? That you're not fucking someone else?"

"Santana, I would never-"

"How do I know?"

"I see your point."

The disappointment in Rachel's voice was clear, it was a tone that Santana could never stand. But she could then. She held her ground and clutched tight onto a pillow letting a quiet sob escape eliciting a whimper from Rachel. A soft hand was on her shoulder, squeezing just a bit before Santana heard the bedroom door close. She knew Rachel was on the other side of it.

XXXXXXXXXX

"You're overreacting, Lopez. Just cut the shit out."

It was three in the morning, Santana still hadn't spoken to Rachel but Puck sure made his presence known. He refused to leave the Latina alone, constantly telling her how stupid she was. Santana almost believed him but she was still pissed. The Lopez's were known for holding grudges. Currently he was occupying the bedroom armchair with his feet propped up on the foot of the bed that Santana refused to leave.

"She lied."

"It's not like she fucked someone else. But if you keep acting like this she just might."

"Stay away from my girl, Puckerman."

"I swear that if you screw this up because you're being stupid I will personally kick your ass."

"What the hell do you care anyway?" Santana growled, throwing a pillow at the mohawked man.

Puck scoffed and swung his feet off the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Because, you idiot, she makes you happy. You make her happy. Sappy love bullshit. You really want to lose her?"

"Wow, Puckerman," Santana smirked, "I haven't seen you this gay since high school."

"Yeah well I haven't given a fuck about much since then."

Santana watched Puck drop his head, eyes focused on the floor and she knew instantly he was thinking about Beth. She hadn't given much thought to the situation after she and Rachel left for New York and Puck had never brought it up after he took off to God-only-knows-where, knowing that Beth was better off with Shelby. They'd talked a few times a month since graduation, Puck crashed on their couch a few times a year, but he'd never said anything.

"I'll talk to her," Santana mumbled.

"Good, I'll go get her."

"Not now, asshole. She's probably asleep."

Puck snorted as he stood, headed for the bedroom door. "She hasn't slept in two weeks, she'll be up."

In just a few seconds, Rachel was poking her head into the bedroom door; Santana tried desperately to avoid eye contact. She couldn't. Rachel's chocolate brown eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She'd obviously showered that night, her hair a little damp and changed into a _Wicked_t-shirt. Without a word, Rachel shuffled to the chair that had been occupied by Puck and took a seat, hands folded in her lap and with an eager expression on her face.

"I don't know what to say," Santana admitted.

"May I?" Rachel whispered.

Santana nodded.

"I love you," Rachel began, "I love you more than even I could possibly comprehend and I would never, ever intentionally hurt you, Santana. I have never asked you for much but right now I am asking you to please forgive me. I know it will be an extensive amount of time before I can completely earn your trust but please...please don't let this destroy us. I-I need you."

"I love you, too."

The small smile on Rachel's face made Santana's heart jump a little and her own smile cross her lips. She patted the space next to her, inviting her girl into her arms. It was like a weight had been lifted from her chest when Rachel eagerly climbed into bed and was wrapped up in her arms.

"I do forgive you," Santana said. "I just...please don't ever lie to me again. Not like this."

"I promise. It was selfish and stupid and it will never happen again."

It was quiet for a few minutes, Santana was unsure whether or not Rachel was asleep until she heard whispers coming from her, Rachel's head on Santana's stomach.

"What are you doing, babe?" Santana asked, combing her fingers through Rachel's hair.

The other brunette startled, jerking to sit up with her lower lip clutched between her teeth. "I...Well...I was just...you see," Rachel stammered. "Sometimes after you've gone to sleep I'll...talk."

"To my stomach?"

"To our potential children?" Rachel half-asked, hope in her voice.

It wasn't like Santana hadn't thought about it. Or daydreamed about it. A lot. Nearly every day. Seeing families come into the hospital with kids she always picked out the ones that might look like hers and Rachel's if they had some but she wasn't sure if Rachel had thought about it at all.

"You want kids?"

Rachel nodded.

"Well...like...when?"

"As soon as humanly possible would be nice. I mean, we're pushing thirty and I'd like more than one. I'm aware that we're not scheduled to wed for another year, after you've completed your residency, but finding a qualified fertility physician and budgeting for the insemination process as well as finding a suitable sperm donor will be very time consuming."

In her exhausted state only about half of what Rachel said was actually processed but she did catch a certain phrase which made a smile spread across her lips. It was close to being an insane idea and she knew there would be a lot of explaining to do that the process would _not_take place in the "natural" way. But Santana was pretty sure she could help out with the whole baby-making process.

"I have an idea," Santana said, her smile growing wider.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was a shock when the smell of breakfast wafted through the apartment the next morning, not so shocking when it was the smell of waffles that woke Santana and her fiancee. The pair dressed quickly (it had been over two weeks, there was some catching up to do) and were greeted with Puck in the kitchen standing over the waffle iron with two plates piled high next to him.

"This one's your vegan stuff, Berry," he said, pointing to one plate. "Blueberry."

"The waffles can wait, Puckerman," Santana said. She turned to Rachel, looking for a final confirmation. The other brunette nodded, her smile wide, before turning back to Puck.

"Noah, we have a proposition for you."


	7. Parents

**Installment Summary: **Santana meets Rachel's dads.

* * *

Meeting your girlfriend's parents for the first time can definitely be a nerve wracking experience. For Santana Lopez, it was close to terrifying. She had managed to elude Rachel's dads for a while; they didn't really hang out much at Rachel's when they were friends and after their first kiss on New Year's Day. Even in spending Hanukkah with Rachel, her dads were busy volunteering at their synagogue after a flu epidemic took out all other available volunteers. Santana always seemed to miss them by a few minutes. Thank God. For Valentine's Day, Santana had convinced Rachel to meet her at Breadstix, thus averting meeting the Berry men yet again.

By mid-March, Santana was counting down the days until she would be leaving for New York (the part about it being with Rachel was unspoken still, but she had a feeling) and, with it, counting down the days she could avoid meeting Leroy and Hiram. It was an unreal expectation, especially since Rachel had started hinting at it. But Santana was determined. She had gotten Brittany shipped off to the Netherlands and duh, Rachel's dads were gay and knew they were dating...but after meeting Santana they could very easily decide she wasn't good enough or something.

She would meet them, though. Just...not in the way she would expect. Ever.

Leroy and Hiram were out for the evening, as they were every Friday night, while Santana enjoyed snuggling with Rachel on the couch. Rachel never would say where they went, just that Friday nights her dads were out. It was quiet for the moment which was rare for Rachel. To cut the silence, Santana reached for the TV remote which was, apparently, the worst idea on the face of planet Earth.

"No!" Rachel shrieked, scrambling to grab the remote. "You-you can't!"

"What...it's just TV, Rachel."

"You know the rule, Santana," Rachel growled. She grabbed the remote and stuffed it in the couch cushions. "No television on date night."

"Sorry," Santana mumbled, shifting. "I didn't-"

The shift must've hit a button as the TV turned itself on and to Lima Public Broadcasting sending Rachel into a frenzy to try and pull the remote back out. It was too late, though. Santana discovered where the Berry men went every Friday night. Leroy and Hiram were in a set kitchen, laughing and flirting as they prepared what looked to be a tart of some sort. Cartons of fresh berries, pastry cream, and a few tart shells were scattered about.

"Hiram do you remember," Leroy chuckled, "do you remember the time we tried to make a berry tart with Rachel when was little?"

"Oh goodness! There was pastry cream everywhere!"

"I think...Ron, don't we have a picture for this segment? Oh, there it is!"

A picture of Rachel, about two years old and clad in nothing but a diaper and pastry cream all over her, popped up on the screen. It sent Santana into a fit of laughter and Rachel almost in to tears. But it was hilarious. Damn hilarious.

"Where is the remote?" Rachel shrieked. "We have to turn it off..."

"No, no!" Santana growled, pulling Rachel to the floor. "We have to watch this! I need to see..."

"Santana, you don't understand..."

Again, it was too late. Santana had found the remote and was holding on for dear life while watching TV, a video clip of Rachel in the bathtub getting pastry cream washed out of her hair cutting off and it flashing back to the Berry men. They worked in silence for a few seconds, cutting up strawberries and blueberries while the different camera angles were shown.

"Hiram, these berries look so delicious," Leroy said, sly smile on his lips.

"They do. Remember that night when we went to that berry patch?"

"Oh, good times. Do you have the cream?"

"I do, already blended the berries in it and everything."

"I love a good berry cream."

Santana was slightly speechless, the innuendo from Rachel's dads making her uncomfortable at this point. She finally surrendered her grip on the remote to her girlfriend, allowing the TV to be shut off. What the hell all did Lima Public _show_on late night? And what a way to meet Rachel's dads.

"So your dads..." Santana asked, sitting up and quirking an eyebrow.

"Host a weekly late-night cooking show."

"Uh, yeah, like an R rated one."

"No, no," Rachel sighed. "Just innuendo. It's PG-13 at the most."

"How the hell did I not know about this?"

"I try to keep it low-key."

Santana smirked and pulled Rachel back to lay the floor with her – ending up with Rachel on top of her and Santana's hands on Rachel's hips and pulling her in.

"I'm not sure I want to make out with you after this," Rachel huffed. "You're mean."

"Who said anything about making out?" Santana grinned, pulling Rachel's hips into her and grinding up. The desired effect was achieved: Rachel was speechless. Bonus points: Rachel lost her arm strength and dropped fully against Santana, lips and all. Santana moaned into the kiss as Rachel rocked her hips.

Was Santana going to push her luck? Oh hell yes.

With Rachel fully engrossed in kissing, Santana slipped her fingertips underneath her girlfriend's shirt and up her sides, fully expecting to be stopped...instead, Rachel pulled their torsos apart and broke the kiss momentarily to nod. It was all the permission Santana needed. Until, of course, she actually _got_to where she was headed and Rachel cleared her throat.

"What is it, baby?" Santana sighed, trying not to sound exasperated.

"Hm? I didn't say anything, keep going," Rachel purred, leaning down to nip at Santana's ear.

"Actually, we'd prefer it if you stop."

Santana wasn't sure who screamed louder, she or Rachel; or exactly how she ended up sitting against a wall far away from where she had been with her hands in the air, eyes darting back and forth between Rachel who was adjusting her shirt and Leroy and Hiram who were standing in the living room with Chinese takeout containers. Well, this was it. She was about to get told never to step in the Berry house again and that she was forbidden from seeing Rachel for the rest of time. Why did her relationship luck suck so bad? Maybe she should become a nun. A really hot nun.

"D-dad, Daddy...why are you home so early? I thought the show was live!"

"Not this week," Leroy said.

"We had them tape it early so we could surprise you with Chinese. Feels like we haven't seen you in forever, sweetheart."

"And this is Santana, I presume?"

Santana had no idea when she had shut her eyes to prepare for the crushing blow of a takeout container to her head. But since the impact and hot Asian food never came, she slowly opened her eyes. She was totally going to be met with a death glare, she knew. A death glare followed by a surprise attack of piping hot lo mein.

Okay, it wasn't a death glare. It was stern, though. Very...father-like.

"Santana," Rachel said, extending a hand to help her girlfriend off the floor. "These are my dads, Leroy and Hiram. Daddy, Dad, this is Santana. My girlfriend."

"Of three months," Hiram added. "Well Santana, it is nice to finally meet you."

"Rachel talks constantly about you," Leroy chimed in. "Really, it's as if we already know you."

"I...hi...yeah," Santana managed to choke out. "Uh. Ni-nice to meet you." She must have hit her head at some point. Things did not scare Santana Lopez. Not Rachel's insanity or that one time she accidentally set her house on fire. Nothing. Except the two men standing in front of her.

"Is she alright, Rachel?" Leroy stage whispered. "Does she...is she usually like this?"

"Not at all."

"I just...startled," Santana stammered. Yep, she had a concussion. "I...there's...um...God, I am so sorry. Please don't ship Rachel off to some foreign country." Oh look, words. And now Santana sounded more insane than Rachel.

"Well we weren't planning on it," Leroy said, eyebrow arched. "But we would like to eat the take-out before it gets cold. You're more than welcome to join us."

"I...okay."

"Wonderful," Hiram chirped. "We'll get the table set if you two will pour drinks, how's that?"

Santana nodded wordlessly, fumbling for Rachel's hand and finally grasping it tightly. Her eyes never left the Berry men as they retreated toward the kitchen. Before she could say or do anything, Hiram stopped and turned with a grin on his face that should've told Santana she was never, ever going to live this night down.

"Oh girls," he said, "let's try to keep it at first base during dinner, shall we?"

And that was how Santana Lopez met Rachel Berry's two gay dads.


	8. Silence

**Installment** **Summary:** Rachel and Santana weren't obsessive parents. Okay, maybe a little.  
**Author's Note: **Dedicated to my girl, because she's been asking for something new ever since...well, the day after I posted the last new story.

* * *

Santana and Rachel weren't _obsessive _parents, thank you very much. Santana was an awesome doctor in a very successful medical clinic so she could diagnose just about anything that was wrong with their daughter. She'd had a cold and an ear infection in her first year of life, both of which were taken care of promptly. They hadn't freaked out at all. Well, not very much.

They were not obsessive. They just monitored closely.

But when Trinity hadn't spoken a single distinguishable word by her 18 month check-up, they were most definitely obsessive. Santana called the best ENT doctor she knew of and had a complete workup done – everything from hearing tests to CT scans. Puck had been interrogated, his entire family history dragged out and hashed over to find any kind of potential problem that he hadn't mentioned. There was nothing. His DNA was flawless.

Rachel and Santana found themselves sitting nervously in the doctor's office a week later to hear the results. Trinity was playing with her shapes sorter on Santana's lap while Rachel tapped her foot impatiently.

"Dear God, Santana-"

"You don't have to say my name twice."

"This is serious, Santana!" Rachel shrieked. "What if she's deaf? What if she's a mute? What if her vocal cords never fully developed? What if-"

"Stop it!" Santana hissed. "You're freaking me out. And we know she's not deaf, come on."

"Don't tell me you haven't been searching for every single cause. I know you have. You dragged your old textbooks out of storage and hid them in the hall closet."

Santana sighed. It was true. She had raided their storage locker and pulled out every single one of her textbooks from med school. When Rachel would be late coming home from her show, Santana would pull out her books and scour them for any and every cause she could find. Google would've been easier, yeah, but Santana knew that Rachel would occasionally go through the browsing history to find a link she couldn't remember and that if the history had been magically cleared it would look suspicious. This was her baby girl, damn it, she needed to know everything she could.

"Listen," Santana sighed. "It doesn't matter, okay? Whatever it is or isn't, we'll deal. We have to."

"Good news, ladies," the doctor said, stepping into the office. "Trinity is just fine." The older gentleman sat at his desk and smiled. "All of the test results came back normal for her age so, physically, there's nothing wrong."

"But she won't talk," Rachel countered. "She should have a vocabulary of at least a few words by now. I was practically speaking in sentences at her age."

"I understand, Mrs. Berry. But there could be other causes. I'm going to give you the name of a speech therapist-"

"What about autism?" Santana asked quietly.

It was something that had plagued her thoughts ever since she and Rachel had noticed Trinity's unwillingness to speak. Her cousin's son had been diagnosed just a few years before and one of the big indicators had been his lack of verbalization. Santana had stayed up until three in the morning listening to her cousin break down on the phone only a few months before about how she was so frustrated that her son still wouldn't communicate and would lash out in violent temper tantrums in the middle of a store when he didn't get what he wanted. Her husband was practically worthless when it came to him, he had no idea how to handle the kid and so things around the house would end up destroyed or painted on since he wasn't being watched. The conversation flooded Santana's mind as the doctor sat with his lips pursed.

"I'm only an ENT specialist, Dr. Lopez. I'm just as qualified as you to diagnose that. What I do know, as you probably do as well, is that they won't consider that possibility until-"

"I know," Santana cut him off. "Three or later."

"Start with the speech therapist," he said, handing the card over. "Your daughter is very, very bright, I do know that much. Some kids are just quiet."

XXXXXXXXXX

The quickest they could get into the speech therapists schedule was three weeks. In the mean time, Santana and Rachel each tried their own ways to get Trinity to say even one word. Sure, they had been trying since she turned one, but this was with renewed vigor.

Rachel tried bribery.

"Cookie!" Rachel said, holding a cookie just out of Trinity's reach after dinner. "Cookie!"

The toddler only whined and reached for the cookie.

"Come on, sweetie. Say 'cookie'."

"Rachel..."

"Cookie!"

"Sweetie..."

"She's so close, Santana. She'll get this."

After six minutes, Trinity began to throw a fit and Rachel could only sigh and hand over the cookie. Santana's heart broke at Rachel's dejected look. It was frustrating and scary to think that their baby girl might have something wrong. Not wrong, Santana had to correct herself. Just...different. Trinity was perfect. She was their perfect baby girl and nothing would ever change that. But it didn't stop the frustration.

Santana tried reading. She would read anything to Trinity. Rather than just the books that lined the toddler's shelves, Santana would read the cereal box, medical magazines she got in the mail, street signs...anything for the girl to hear her voice. She narrated everything she did, pointed out objects and their names. Trinity only looked bored. And it killed her. She wanted to communicate with her child. She saw mothers bring their 18-month-olds to the doctor and the babies would be saying random words and, most heartbreakingly, reaching up and saying "mama".

The worst part was the stress. The frustration got to Santana to the point that she started pushing away from her wife...and she knew Rachel was pushing away from her, too. There was tension all the time. The worry of not knowing what was going to happen in the next few weeks...months...years. Santana kept searching for other signs of autism but it was too early to tell, any doctor would tell her that. Hell, her own books told her that.

It all snapped the day before Trinity's appointment with the speech therapist. Santana had just put the toddler down for her nap after reading her third book of the day. She had whispered a tearful "I love you" into her baby's temple before carefully placing her on the palette in the toddler's play room and exiting quietly, shutting the door behind her. She dried her tears and sniffled before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen where she found Rachel staring at a carnival booth picture strip.

"I got her down," Santana said softly. "I think we're running out of books. Might have to break out the DSM."

"Does it matter?" Rachel muttered. "Does anything we do matter?"

"Don't say that." Santana's words had come out more harshly than she intended but Rachel's words struck a nerve...mostly because Santana had thought them more times than she could count.

"Why?" Rachel turned, her eyes red and tears running. "Why can't we just say what we're thinking, Santana? God, do you think I don't _know_what we could be facing? Do you think I haven't done my research?"

"Fine," Santana said, throwing her hands into the air. "Fine, you want to know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that I am fucking _terrified_. Terrified because I know that sometimes shit like this can tear families apart and I am so fucking _scared _that it will happen to us. So I'm damn determined to do anything and everything I can for our daughter because whether it matters or not, I'll know I at least tried."

"Sure, make me sound like the horrible one!" Rachel shrieked. "You think I don't want to do anything to help her?!"

"This isn't about you, diva! This is about Trin and making sure she gets what she needs!"

"I know that!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Santana saw a head full of curly dark hair stumble through the kitchen but the heated argument with Rachel made her disregard it. Because, damn it, this was going to be about Trinity and what she needed. Anything Santana needed was going to be on the back burner.

"Then stop worrying about you!"

"Mama?"

"I'm not worried about me!"

"That's who you sure as hell seem to be worried about!"

"Mama?"

Rachel sighed, frustrated and looked down at their daughter. "Yes, sweetie, what is it?"

"Juice."

"I'm just so frustrated," Rachel said, opening the refrigerator and retrieving the bottle of apple juice. "I just want to listen to her say 'mama' or ask me for something!" The brunette grabbed a sippy cup from the cabinet and filled it with apple juice. "I want to some day be able to hear our daughter tell us that she loves us!" Rachel handed the cup to Trinity and the toddler took a healthy drink.

"Yummy!"

Santana watched Trinity walk out of the kitchen and back down the hallway and, still focused on Rachel, she turned her head back to the woman who stood with a scowl on her face.

"You think I don't want those same things, Rachel?!"

"She's perfect, I know she's perfect, but-"

"Wait." Santana froze and held up a hand, furrowed her eyebrows, and replayed the last 30 seconds in her head a few times. And she was speechless. "What the hell just happened?"

"What do you mean? We were arguing."

"I mean, during that."

"Trinity came in, asked for juice...asked for juice...Oh my God!"

Santana didn't even think before darting out of the kitchen and down the hall to Trinity's play room. The girl was sitting in the middle of the room with her apple juice, blanket, and shapes cube, gurgling happily.

"Trin," Santana said, kneeling down.

"Mami," Trinity replied, looking right into the Latina's eyes.

Never one to believe in flukes, Santana picked up her daughter's cup. "What is this?" Santana asked.

"Cup."

Santana heard Rachel begin hyperventilating and she was close to tears herself. And despite the fact that it would probably make Rachel pass out, Santana turned and pointed to her.

"Who's that?"

"Mama!" Trinity squealed.

Rachel didn't pass out but she did begin full on sobbing as she dropped to the floor and scooped Trinity in her arms to hold her close, despite the toddler's squirming and very vocal protests.

"Down! Down!"

"I can't believe it," Santana gasped, reaching out and pressing a kiss to Rachel's temple and another to the top of Trinity's head.

"I want another one."

The statement from Rachel made Santana drop back a little. It's not that she hadn't thought about it but with everything going on in the last month, it wasn't something to seriously consider for her. That, and it was agreed that since Rachel had carried Trinity that Santana would be next.

"What?"

"I just..." Rachel took a shuddering breath as she let Trinity out of her arms and the young girl immediately went to her toybox and began digging around. "I've thought about it so much, Santana. I was so scared that we wouldn't be able to handle it...but I want another one. I know it's soon and we said we'd wait, but-"

"I want it, too."

"Yeah?" Rachel smiled, tears still streaming down her face. Santana took the opportunity to wipe the water away from her wife's cheeks.

"Yeah. I guess we better call Puck."

Rachel nodded furiously. "I love you. So much."

They weren't obsessive parents. They knew their kids would be perfect, no matter what. And they were.


End file.
